Seeing Red
by racefh853629
Summary: "Naval Criminal Investigative Service." "And just what crime have I supposedly committed against the Navy?"


A/N: I don't own NCIS, Psych, CBS, USA, or any other known entity. After "Peekaboo", many were asking about the Gibbs/Shawn run-in. I hope I did it some justice. This takes place pre-NCIS, and, actually, before the JAG crossover that started the show, though not too much before. So I also don't own Agent Vivian Blackadder. I'm not sure about Shawn's timeline, but I do remember hearing about him being around the world, and NCIS also travelled out of the country in the beginning of the series. So, the story's based there. I hope you guys enjoy this one-shot, and please review. :)

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Seeing Red

Cold, unyielding blue eyes stared at somewhat amused, less-than-frightened brown eyes. Brown eyes that concealed truths, but in the end, were innocent. Blue eyes that knew that fact, but really wanted to know what the brown eyes were hiding.

There were, of course, other brown eyes in the room, attached to a younger man with brown hair. Blue eyes, his hair was gray. The younger man stood behind the older one, pacing back and forth with a folder in his hand while glancing between the folder and the other set of brown eyes in the room.

"Dude, what is up with your hair?" the seated, brown-eyed man asked. "Seriously. Both of you. You got some strange mane or something going on, and you… you look like you got a sad version of a bowl cut."

The older man glared, but said nothing.

"Got your information right here," the standing man said, indicating the aforementioned folder as he ignored the previous comments. "Shawn Spencer, of Santa Barbara, California. Long way from home."

Shawn shrugged. "Aren't we all?" he asked of the two men before him. "I mean, you guys are American. Officers or something."

"NCIS Special Agents," the older man corrected sharply.

Shawn knit his brow together. "NCIS?"

"Naval Criminal Investigative Service."

"And just what crime have I supposedly committed against the Navy?"

The younger man ignored his comment, going back to the folder in his hand. "Arrested at age 18 for stealing a car. Arresting officer was, get this, Henry Spencer."

The older man scoffed with a smirk. "Your old man?"

Shawn grunted with an eye roll. "He was trying to teach me a lesson." Resentment poured out of every word, which was something for the older man to dig into later.

The younger man chuckled slightly. "Guess that didn't work so well for you, huh?"

Shawn narrowed his eyes. "I haven't done anything wrong, Agent. And if you were more interested in the case and less interested in your red-headed partner, then you'd know that."

Amusement hid far behind the older man's cold stare. "DiNozzo," he said slowly.

Tony groaned, but left the room.

Shawn smirked at the mirror. "Can't say I blame him," he said. "She's pretty. I like red heads."

Blue eyes narrowed in response.

Shawn could've gulped, but he was trying not to react to the man across from him. Reacting would be losing, and losing was not something Shawn did. He was _not_ the loser his father assumed he was. He was much, much better than that. And he would defeat this older agent in any game, comment, or staring contest he proffered. So instead, he asked the older man, "can we get some pineapple in here?"

A corner of the man's mouth threatened to quirk upward… or so Shawn thought. He didn't know this man well enough to say for sure either way. But he looked like he was mildly amused by the man across from him. Underneath all the 'I-really-want-to-shoot-this-kid' vibe. Though, Shawn mused, he'd acted the same way with Tony, too, when the two picked him up…

"Look," Shawn began, somewhat annoyed. "You already have my file. You already know I'm an American citizen with no ties to the Navy. The only way I even know your dead guy was that I was playing cards with him and his buddies last night. So why, exactly, am I still here?"

Nothing but cold, unsettling, un-reacting eyes.

Shawn rolled his at the man's lack of response, readjusting in his seat. It would've been fidgeting, if Shawn would allow himself to feel nervous. However, he wasn't nervous. No. No way. Not at all. There wasn't anything to be nervous about. He'd done nothing wrong over here in the Philippines. And no amount of intense staring from a man old enough to be his father would make him change his mind.

Or spill his guts.

Yet, the stare was unwavering, and slightly unnerving. Shawn decided to focus on the man's eyes, watching for any tells, or even any blinking. He gained nothing from the hardened agent before him, which told him more than the other man had ever intended.

…Okay, maybe he was a _little_ nervous…

"Military, huh?" Shawn deflected.

Questionable twitch of the eyelid.

Shawn smiled, taking that for a yes. "Nice. Explains the silence and the staring. Special ops?"

Vaguely discernible response. _That would be a no…_

"Not quite, then." Shawn shrugged. "Well, this has been fun and all, but I don't think I'd locked my bike up well enough for a prolonged interrogation, so if you don't mind…"

"We have your bike."

Shawn snorted in quasi-amusement. "Finally, a response."

Met with more staring. Or, was it glaring? Shawn really couldn't be too sure at the moment. But he needed to keep pressing. _Maybe if I annoy him enough, I can go…_

"Look, Agent… your… red-head, Agent Blackhouse and Coke…

"Blackadder," Gibbs muttered in interruption.

Shawn would've reveled in the irritation under the grunt if he wasn't in the middle of a thought. "…didn't tell me what you and Agent DiNozzo would want me for when she grabbed me. Well, I mean, she said there'd be questions, but so far, all I've gotten was a staring contest. And, while I'm all for staring contests… I haven't had one with Gus in a long time… maybe I should head back to Santa Barbara one of these days…"

A grunt.

"Right. Can I at least know your name, so I don't recount this story as my time spent with Agent Grumble-And-Stare?"

"Gibbs," the older man replied curtly.

Shawn nodded. "Agent Gibbs." He shrugged to himself. "Okay, Agent Gibbs. Do you have a question for me?"

Gibbs stared.

Shawn rolled his eyes again, feigning annoyance over his slightly growing concern. "Is there some reason you're just sitting here and staring?"

No response. Not even so much as a blink.

"Okay, fine then. Since you've clearly figured out by now that I'm innocent, you mind telling me why I'm still sitting here?"

Gibbs kept his watch on the younger man, though his eyebrows did quirk upward slightly.

"Well, if you thought I was guilty, you'd have asked a question by now," Shawn supplied the answer for the unspoken question.

Finally, a blink. And a half-smile to boot. _Maybe he's not going to kill me… yet._

"The guys were drinking at a bar," Shawn found himself saying, despite his earlier resolve not to talk about it. Mostly because the man across from him had started reacting. Even though there was clearly some hostility coming off the older man. _Maybe if I just talk about last night…_ "We ended up playing some poker. Your dead guy, he couldn't bluff. None of them could, honestly. Which is rather sad for a group of Naval personnel. I mean, we trust them to keep secrets, and they can't lie worth a damn… anyway, we ended up talking, something about cards and rack mates."

"What about cards and rack mates?" Gibbs asked.

Shawn shrugged. "Your dead guy was complaining about his rack mate. Something about getting mixed up with… some… other guy or something, who could be an issue with some stuff. But he didn't give specifics, and I didn't ask. Seemed like it was something personal to the dead guy and something he was pissed off about, so I wasn't gonna take it further than he wanted to go. I mean, not on the first date…"

Gibbs just watched, but the glare was back. And boy, was it angry…

Shawn shook his head. "That's it. I've told you all I know."

Shawn could tell that Gibbs knew he meant it.

"So why can't I go?"

Gibbs stared back at him, though the gaze was a little bit softer. Not soft, just not death-glaring anymore.

Shawn held the stare for a minute before realization set in. "The killer went after his three buddies, didn't he?"

Subtle tic toward a nod.

"They dead?"

"One of them," the older man replied.

Shawn stiffened slightly. "So you're hanging onto me because you're trying to protect me. What about the other two?"

"One's in the hospital."

Shawn snorted. "Guess I should be glad I'm not the third guy, then. At least I'm not the bait."

Gibbs smirked minutely, so little that it was barely detectable. But Shawn's heightened observational skills saw it, knew it, and enjoyed it.

Shawn exhaled slowly. "But this? It's all unnecessary. Really. I can take care of myself. My father taught me how."

The last part came out with more malice than Shawn may have intended, though it seemed to be rather understood by Gibbs.

Shawn scoffed bitterly as he recounted his childhood lessons. "I mean, the guy taught me how to escape from a trunk when I was 11 years old. How to run away from bad guys. Ways to sneak around. How to shoot a gun. Trust me, I'd be just fine. I don't need the protection."

Gibbs said nothing, but his eyes spoke volumes… of agitation… and… was that sympathy?

Shawn shrugged the whole thing off instead of finishing his thoughts. "I suppose you have no choice, but really, man. You got my file. You should've been able to read that."

Nothing. Though Shawn gathered that there was definitely something brewing under the older man's skin. He just couldn't put his finger what it was. Aside from the ever-present frustration…

Shawn shook his head. "Can I at least get some food? I'm hungry."

Gibbs shrugged slightly, glancing back at the mirror.

And then… nothing happened. For quite some time.

Shawn was starting to give up hope on eating until Vivian reappeared with some of the local cuisine. Shawn quickly dug in as the female agent disappeared out the door again. Gibbs quirked an eyebrow at Shawn's current antics, but said nothing.

Drinks made their way into the room too, and Shawn muttered something that sounded somewhat like appreciation. After eating, under the ever watchful eyes of Gibbs, Shawn stretched back again.

"You gonna eat?" the kid asked.

No indication from Gibbs.

Shawn shrugged again. "Your loss, man. Because that is some really good food. So, how long do I gotta be in here?"

Gibbs's phone rang, and the older man answered it. After a brief conversation, he turned to Shawn. "You're free to go," he told the younger man.

Shawn stood up from his chair. "Well, this was a blast. We'll have to do this again some time."

Gibbs allowed himself a smirk at Shawn's sarcasm, albeit an angry one.

Shawn smiled fully, turning and walking for the door. "For the record, Agent Gibbs, I hope we never meet again. You're kinda creepy with all the silence and non-blinking-what-have-its."

Gibbs shrugged. "I hope we don't meet again too."

Shawn half-laughed as he shook his head, walking out the door where he met up with Vivian. "Hey, Agent Red-Head…"

Gibbs shook his head as Shawn's voice trailed off down the hallway. A few more minutes with the kid's games, he _just_ might've shot him.

The End


End file.
